


Vampire Boyfriend

by CruelisnotMason



Series: Happy & humorous sheith fics [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autumn, Biting, Blood, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Vampires, biting negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason/pseuds/CruelisnotMason
Summary: All of Keith's friends love his new boyfriend, and they do for a good reason.Shiro is not only good looking, he's the first one to treat Keith in a way he truly deserves, according to his friends. Shiro's also, without exaggeration, the funniest person on earth.But after a while...Keith just starts noticing that there's somethingdifferentabout Takashi Shirogane.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Happy & humorous sheith fics [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350754
Comments: 58
Kudos: 287





	Vampire Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks [@WatermelonTuesdays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatermelonTuesdays) for your thorough beta job!!! I've learned a lot and giggled at all the comments 
> 
> As we're nearing Halloween, I definitely feel the need for some Halloween-y sheith fics. Also can't wait to cook a lot of Halloween-related foodies for me and the fam this year...I just love the third season of the year a lot lol
> 
> Hope you all like this short thing, feel free to leave comments and kudos if you do!

All of Keith's friends love his new boyfriend, and they do for a good reason. 

According to his friends, Shiro is not only good looking, he's the first one to treat Keith in a way he truly deserves. What they all agree on is that Shiro's also, without exaggeration, the funniest person on earth. 

Unsurprisingly, all of Keith’s friends are giddily happy for him, albeit Keith suspects the everyone's collective crush for the 6'4 ft, packed sexgod as the rooted source. 

Keith doesn't mind, and is glad to take this level of acceptance from them for someone from his love life. Also... It's not like he can't understand the hype around Takashi Shirogane. 

So far, they've been dating for two months. They met off of one of those horrible dating apps Keith never wanted to use when he was younger but complied to as he grew older, having trouble finding someone to accept his quirks. Shiro's profile pic was a literal shot of his abs, looking like it was showered in diamonds–hello 2012 twilight aesthetics– and the only thing in his bio was 'I don't bite–unless you want me to.' 

Keith swiped right because he trusted his luck not to meet a psychopath for his first and only swipe, and because he liked that level of _overconfident goof_ quite a bit. 

Fair enough, nothing went wrong in particular during the date, and a few hours later Keith was more than ready for a hookup. 

Shiro quickly turned out to uphold everything his profile promised, which wasn’t much and was also not very clear, to be fair. But, again, he is the funniest person Keith has ever met, fucks with a stamina that Keith could hardly ever achieve— despite being in his prime— he's hot and a little older but not _old–_ even though he simply loves to say he could be the age of Keith's father if he only remembered the day of his 'birth'— whatever that means.

So far, there's nothing really unusual at the beginning of their hook-ups about Shiro, aside from the continuous jokes about his age and back pain— and Keith really feels them click. He didn't think he'd find a boyfriend through a dating app but, well… Shiro makes him laugh and wakes those tiny nervous butterflies in him. And that's more than any of the guys Keith dated in the past could claim. 

Now, a few weeks into the relationship, and there are a few things that do feel a little unusual about Shiro. Nothing _completely_ out of order, but… 

From Keith's entire circle of friends— which is not that big, admittedly, but does suffice— Shiro is someone who really loves working night shifts. Keith understands they bring good money, especially in a job like Shiro's, as a nurse. But he's surprised Shiro doesn't ever fuck up his sleep cycle over it. Sometimes it feels like Shiro is easily the _least_ tired person Keith has ever met.

After work, Shiro doesn't look a tad as worn out as Keith feels after his own 9-5. Shiro simply looks like he always does, and sits in his apartment— yes, Keith owns a set of keys to that— with a glass of red. When Keith asks him what he's drinking, not really fond of wine himself, Shiro won't ever get tired of cracking his favorite joke either. 

"Mhm," he'll say, staring into the wine glass as if he's examining it for the first time, and then, as if he's taking an educated guess and not simply fucking around with Keith he'll say, 

"I think it's a one-year-aged _A positive_." 

"Yeah, yeah," Keith will say every time and give him a little kiss on top of his white floof, not eager to come so close to the wine to actually smell it, "You're a murderous nurse, aren't you?" 

Shiro will flash a brilliant smile— some people would kill for those beautiful, white teeth— and say, " _Murder_? Well that's kinda dark, isn't it, Keith?" 

And they'll both share a laugh. That's just how they are. 

Despite some unusual things about Shiro, including Shiro’s particular flavor of humor, Keith thinks of him as perfect: a sexy, funny, sweet boyfriend, who's just a little macabre once in a while. Who brings him red roses and says he bought them after his nightly walk through the nearby graveyard, or hisses when Keith opens the sun shades at noon.

There's only...a first instance, when Keith gets a little whiff that things _aren’t_ completely normal with Shiro. 

The other night they are having a dinner date, which is nothing unusual on its own. Shiro insisted on doing the cooking, and Keith insisted on doing it together. No garlic, because Keith will get a stomach ache from it, and Shiro's alright with that decision, saying it'll _kill_ him. Keith thinks it’s funny how _overdramatic_ Shiro can be at times. Luckily, they share a disdain for garlic, but also a love for a deep red, spicy tomato sauce. 

The first instance where Keith feels like something might be wrong tonight, is when he sees Shiro's eyes turning the color of dark blood. 

He doesn't mention it at first— he hates being impolite by talking about someone's appearance **—** but shares his concern for Shiro a few minutes later. 

"Oh," Shiro utters, and goes to look in the bathroom mirror. "That's not too good." 

Keith trails a few inches after him, and already has an explanation at his hands. "You've been overworking yourself. From all those night shifts." 

Shiro’s eyes flicker in the mirror to Keith and watch him intensely. "Ah, no." He then exits the bathroom, goes around Keith, directly to the stove to stir the tomato sauce. "I think it's got something to do with my thirst." 

Keith pauses, holding the wooden spoon for stirring the pasta so it won't stick to the bottom of the pot. "Thirst?" he repeats and wonders what level of dehydration makes the veins in your eyeballs pop. 

"Well," Shiro smiles shyly at the tomato sauce, eyes seeming to glow even redder now. "I haven't had the real thing in a while you know." 

Keith does, indeed, not know. So he goes back to stirring the noodles. "Are you talking about wine?" he asks then, feeling painfully oblivious. 

Shiro coughs and turns the heat down, and if Keith doesn't imagine it, his cheeks are turning a soft red. "Uh. Yeah. _The wine_ ," Shiro nods.

Keith moves to the sink with his pot to drain the noodles. He doesn't quite remember but he thought he saw Shiro with a glass the other night. He's not enough of a wine snob— or clearly no wine snob at all— for not knowing what qualifies as 'the real thing' when it comes to wine. Even though Shiro makes it seem like it must be incredibly obvious to anyone. 

"You can get the real thing once in a while," Keith suggests, not wanting Shiro to hold back on the few luxuries in his life. He takes a cutting board from the drawer and a knife to go with it. Shiro hands him a hand full of spring onions to chop up, eyes suddenly wary. 

"Really," Shiro utters, barely a breath. Keith shrugs. 

"Yeah, I don't see why not. Don't hold back to take what you need." 

Shiro holds onto the counter, hand getting whiter as it starts cramping from the force of the grip. "I just—" he starts and takes a heavy breath in between. "I cannot _just_ , you know, with _whoever—_ " 

Keith whips around and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah no. With me. You can drink it. It's fine." 

Keith isn't particularly into wine, or drinking at all. But Shiro should know by now that he likes spending time with him, even if it's just at a table with a glass wine for Shiro and a cup of tea for him. Shiro has grown on Keith so much in the past few days, and even thinking about it makes Keith's heart jump in his chest. 

But Shiro stands there in the tiny kitchen, staring at his hands, as if there was some extreme willpower involved for him not to jump out the window right now. 

"Shiro?" Keith asks softly, and gasps when Shiro raises his head. His eyes have taken on an even darker shade of red that bleeds into black. "Shiro! Are you sure we don't need to go to the hospital—" 

"No, no." Shiro shakes his head rapidly. "I've still got enough in the attic. _You_ need to feed first." 

When he finally focuses on Keith again, his pupils are round, his eyes are soft, and his smile is vibrant. He looks so happy that Keith forgets breathing for a moment.

Then he moves next to Keith to take the spring onion to cut it himself. Keith takes a step to the side to give him space, but stays close enough to feel Shiro’s presence. Shiro gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek after a moment, with a happy look on his face as he pulls back. 

With his heartbeat picking up slightly, Keith enjoys them both standing side by side, listening to the domestic sound of the sauce sizzling, the water boiling, and the knife chopping and hitting the board.

Now that Shiro cuts their topping, Keith can take care of the dishes and cutlery for the meal. He takes two medium-sized bowls out of a cupboard and a fork and spoon with him. The quiet thud of the knife hitting the wooden board continues until suddenly, it sounds like it hit something different.

Keith’s eyes go wide and he whips around when Shiro doesn’t make a noise. What he sees then is stuff from nightmares: The sharp knife cleanly cut into Shiro’s hand, probably so swift and deep that it made no spillage of blood.

Keith yelps.

“Shiro!” He jumps closer, eyes fixed on the knife. “Shiro, oh god. I’ll bring you to the hospital—“

Shiro seems to be in thought, and only falls out of the clouds when Keith’s coming closer. His eyes flick to the knife in his hand and back to Keith again. 

Then, he laughs.

Keith stops and stares; he sets the dishes next to them on the counter. Maybe Shiro has gone mad. It seems the only plausible explanation. 

“This isn’t funny.” For a moment Keith wonders if it was a trick, and somehow Shiro doesn’t really have a knife stuck in his hand. 

But Shiro grins at him with glee as he pulls the knife out, producing a ...frankly horrible sound. 

Every muscle in Keith’s goes tense. Shiro holds the knife-less hand up and turns it back and forth, to show Keith that there’s neither a wound nor any blood. “This old body has some perks after all,” he says.

Keith simply...stares. The other hand, the prosthesis, hangs loosely by Shiro’s side, the knife held tightly. It would have made some sense if the knife got stuck in this hand, instead, without any blood spillage or visible cut. The other, however—

Keith takes a step forward, and reaches for Shiro’s hand to examine it closer. The cut is very slightly visible but doesn’t look deep. The hand is warm, so he...assumes that there’s only one prosthetic arm Shiro possesses.

But Keith never was a guy who wondered too much about what was wrong with people. He likes to think he is pretty much accepting of people all around. So he drops the hand, turns to put a serving of spaghetti with meatballs into each bowl and top them off with cut spring onions— not without checking for blood again first.

Shiro watches him through all of it, hesitating to speak. “...Sorry for making you worry. I guess it takes some time to get used to me being invincible.” There’s a small smirk on his face that only wrinkles more when Keith frowns.

“It’s okay. Just warn a guy when you try to top our food with a sliced _hand_ next time.”

“I’ll give you a fair warning when I’m not paying any attention while slicing onions next time,” Shiro promises with a chuckle, suddenly closer to Keith. 

Keith knows what’s coming, and he enjoys this part. Shiro softly hugs him from behind, kissing the top of his head before he puts his chin on Keith’s shoulder. From there, Shiro— eyes even more intense than before— gives him a soft kiss. 

Keith eagerly welcomes it, pressing back, despite holding two full bowls of food in his hand. Shiro softly bites his bottom lip, effectively making Keith gasp before he moves to the corner of his mouth, to his jaw, to his throat. There, it’s almost more like Shiro softly bites him than really kisses him, without ever breaching the skin. 

A content sigh leaves Keith, and he leans back against the warm body behind him. “This feels good,” he murmurs, the thought that he cannot drop the bowls never leaving his mind, thankfully. He has an iron grip at them.

“It’ll feel so much better,” Shiro murmurs, and finally kisses Keith’s throat for the last time. Unwillingly, Keith gives them both a bit distance, and himself a few seconds to collect himself, so the blood pumping in his body can slowly return from his pants to his brain. 

“Let’s eat,” Keith suggests, throat coarse. Shiro takes the two bowls from him with a sly smile and moves to the table. Whatever he meant by ‘it’ll feel so much better’, it went completely over Keith’s head. It’s just that they’re...fresh together, and everything just feels intense in general. Keith doesn’t know if it could get any more intense.

The food is filling, it warms their hearts and bodies with all the spice. The conversation, too, is endearingly comforting, as they talk about childhood favorite foods and dreams. 

“I always wanted to be a physician, and help people,” Shiro says, a glass of water in front of him instead of the usual glass of wine that he’ll have, either all on its own or with a plate of cooked food. “I liked to study the human body, even though I passed out quite a few times when the professor dissected someone back then.”

“Sounds horrible,” Keith admits with a smile, completely smitten by the fire and compassion in Shiro’s words. “It’s definitely not for anyone.”

“Yeah,” Shiro replies with fondness, and reaches for his water to take a sip. “I almost couldn’t do it either. The disease…” His eyes suddenly grow cold and silver, and he casts his eyes away. Shiro has talked a few times about the chronic disease he was born with, and Keith knows it’s because Shiro trusts him. The disease that once spread through Shiro’s body until he, in his words, had to pay ‘the ultimate price’ to live. 

“Thankfully there was a way, even though now this body...it is—“

Before he can finish, Keith places his hand on Shiro’s and intertwines their fingers. Finally, Shiro looks up again, and his eyes are clearer than before. 

“Your body is _perfect_. All parts of it. And you are,” Keith insists. He doesn’t care about the prosthesis or the white hair, not even the red eyes. To Keith, Shiro is perfect; even if he is be odder than Keith. Keith feels warmth spread through his body followed by his nerves picking up. He thinks it’s too early to say the following since they’ve only dated for a short amount of time, but... “Shiro,” he sighs, “I lo—“

“Keith,” Shiro breathes, locking his gaze with him. Keith slowly feels himself fall out of the sudden daze, and retreats his hand to continue eating. His face must be completely red, and that for a good reason. He almost just told him… but Shiro _deserves_ to know. 

Maybe not now. Maybe when Keith feels ready.

“I appreciate you the way you are,” he says instead, content with his choice of words.

It has its effect, because Shiro looks completely smitten. “I never thought someone would,” he replies with a shy smile. “I’m happy I’ve found you.”

Unsurprisingly, they end up kissing on Keith’s bed.

Shiro is an excellent kisser— not too fast or too soft— kissing just in the way Keith really likes to be kissed. They’ve done this before, and Keith is no stranger to sharing the bed with someone, but with Shiro… it just feels different.

The soft glow of red seems to have returned to Shiro’s eyes, which Keith… barely notices. He’s too engrossed in sucking on Shiro’s lips or with his hand down his pants, feeling for the hotness between Shiro’s legs and anticipating the soft sighs in response to him palming Shiro. 

Shiro greedily takes to kissing Keith all over, his face, his chest, his jaw—

“Can I bite you?” Shiro asks, breath coming out in small little gasps.

Keith doesn’t mind, no. The suggestion leaves him breathless for a moment, and he has to admit he’s even _into_ the idea. “If _you’re_ into that,” he says, trying to not lose his cool over a rather tame thing.

Shiro snorts. “Yeah,” he laughs slightly, nosing at Keith’s jaw, “I’m _into_ that, Keith.”

Keith bites his own lip at that, his mind clouded by Shiro’s hotness and the growl in his voice when he’s turned on. He can never get enough of that. He starts palming Shiro’s cock over his pants, then takes him out swiftly and into his hands. Shiro in turn only starts to loosely palm over Keith’s, and pulls more gasps and small groans from the bigger man.

The first bite comes, a little harsher than anticipated. But the quick pain goes straight to Keith’s crotch, making his cock twitch. It feels better than anticipated as well, and Keith only imagines how hot it would be if Shiro started biting him while they fuck. Either while Shiro is in him, with Keith fucking himself on Shiro’s dick, or maybe even while Keith fucks Shiro— he’d be on board.

Shiro suckles softly at the skin for a while after biting it, and Keith almost feels like he’s in trance. Shiro raises his hips to continue fuck into Keith’s fist, completely losing focus on what his own hand is doing, but it’s alright. With his other hand, Keith opens his jeans and takes out his warm, pulsing cock, then crouches into the right position to take them both in his hand. 

He hisses at the feeling of Shiro’s cock on his, the warm, sensitive skin pulsing against his own, and resumes slowly jerking them off together. Shiro’s big, there’s no way around that, but Keith already knew that much. They’ve done some stuff before that Keith really, _really_ enjoyed. And he continues to enjoy it.

Shiro’s mouth on Keith’s neck— he’s been on there unusually long, but Keith doesn’t mind, he doesn’t mind anything Shiro does— grows tense, and so do Keith’s hips. For a moment, he cannot pinpoint what exactly is happening, aside from them both growing incredibly hot, his hand speeding up, and the pressure from Shiro’s mouth slowly fading with a loud groan until Shiro stutters into Keith’s hand.

“Babe,” Shiro mutters, and rolls his hips against him, swats Keith’s hand away to take control over Keith’s orgasm in turn. 

Keith’s eyes don’t stay close for long— he didn’t even notice closing them— and when he opens them it’s quite the sight.

Shiro looks flushed, mesmerizing, hot— cheeks red from the earlier orgasm. But that’s not the only thing that’s red.

The eyes are glowing— Keith accepts that they are actually glowing now, and it cannot be traced back to maybe a vein popping in his eye, because they glow as red as the backlight of a car in the night. But that alone doesn’t bring the full picture: in the corner of Shiro’s mouth, there’s more red— blood.

It’s smeared all over his chin, and Keith instinctively reaches for the hand on his cock still stroking him, to stop it. “Blood,” is the only thing he says, with wide open eyes. “Blood, Shiro—“

“Oh,” Shiro stills his hand and reaches up instead. He looks...extremely embarrassed, but not an inch surprised. “Sorry, I’m a somewhat messy drinker.”

Keith has seen Shiro drink before and doesn’t think that’s necessarily true. “A. What?” he asks, nonetheless.

“A messy sucker,” Shiro clarifies with a big grin, exposing two sharp canines and a mouth full of blood. He reaches for a tissue to wipe himself clean. Then he nods at Keith’s erection. “Should I continue?”

For once, Keith is completely speechless. “What?” He asks again, tension increasing in his voice. 

Shiro furrows his brows, suddenly unsure. “Getting you off. I can suck you there, uh. Without sucking blood, of course.”

“What?” Keith asks a third time, wondering why Shiro would look surprised at him, and seems confused that it’s the other way around. Did Keith miss something and blood sucking was suddenly normal?

“I wouldn’t do that there,” Shiro reiterates as if that would help. 

“First, _thank you_.” Keith states. “Second... why the fuck would you suck my blood, Shiro?”

Maybe Shiro’s a satanist. Keith heard they exist, but he never thought they were that extreme. Or that they were likely to end up in a loving relationship with him.

“Keith, you _know_ I’m a vampire,” Shiro says, completely seriously.

Well. That's certainly news to Keith. And Keith is particularly sure, that,

“Uh. I don’t.”

“I told you I got turned when I was 26.”

Keith lets out a stuttering breath. “I thought you meant you _fell in love_ with a guy for the first time?” Now that he said those words out loud, it does sound ridiculous. Nobody says ‘turned’ if talking about their sexuality…

“Every other night I drink a glass of blood—“

“You used the fancy wine glasses! I thought it was wine!”

“But I literally told you my favorite drink was a fresh _A positive_.”

Keith winces. “Maybe I was more prone to think you’re secretly an alcoholic than a vampire?” It’s the only thing that makes sense, now that they are talking about why Shiro drinks a glass of red liquid so often. 

“All the night shifts?” Shiro continues.

“But—“ Keith is close to losing his mind.

“And didn’t you notice I never sleep?”

Okay, he’s got some points. But… “I’m a deep sleeper, okay? I just thought you were sleeping when I was and woke up when I did—“

“The red eyes? Me cutting through my hand? The other day I told you I’ll _fly_ to target to get you some mayonnaise—“

Keith stops Shiro from talking by putting both of his hands against Shiro’s mouth. “Stop, _please_ , Shiro. I’m already kind of embarrassed.”

A muffled reply comes from behind Keith’s hands. He lifts them.

“ _You’re_ embarrassed?” Shiro’s eyebrows furrow, and the corners of his mouth turn down. “I just drank from you without permission!”

Keith shuffles closer. He hesitates before he reaches out and softly strokes over Shiro’s hair. “To be fair you _did_ ask if you could bite me.”

Shiro tentatively takes Keith into his arms, as if he’s waiting for Keith to pull away at any time. For a moment, they sink into each other’s comfort, and take a deep breath together.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Keith doesn’t either. He cuddles closer into Shiro’s chest, arms tight around his middle, and lets this new reality sink in; that Shiro is a vampire who drinks blood once in a while. Who wants to drink _his_ blood. Shiro belongs to the night, and he is a person who can't die, not even with a 30 inch butcher’s knife stuck in his hand. 

To Keith and his abandonment issues, that’s honestly just an _upgrade_.

“Will I become a vampire?” he asks Shiro, voice soft.

Shiro takes a shaky breath. “No, Keith. Not if I… not if I don’t plan to turn you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Shiro asks, voice small. Keith nods against his chest.

“Okay. You’re a vampire. No big deal.” 

Shiro chuckles, but the uncertainty in his voice is unmistakable. “Keith,” he says. “Are you sure?”

Keith shrugs and tips up to give Shiro a long kiss. “If you thought I didn't care before why do you think I’d care now? You’re still the perfect boyfriend to me.”

The smile Shiro gives him is tender, and soft; his eyebrows are drawn deeply into his face. “Thanks,” Shiro sighs and ducks down to give Keith another kiss, one that feels even better than before. Soft, tender, like a promise.

Keith doesn’t care if Shiro’s undead, if he sucks blood, if he’s him. 

“Just don’t bite my dick,” Keith mutters against his lips, making Shiro snort again. 

“How about sucking it instead?” He proposes.

“That,” Keith gives him a short peck, grinning vividly before he leans back, “you can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> My wife would probably claim that I am Keith and Keith is me as I usually just accept and never question anything
> 
> ____
> 
> Some fic related art Hegglet prompted me based on this fic


End file.
